Dysfunctional Zoo
by bluebirdchaos
Summary: Eric wanted a daughter. A daughter with whom he could teach the ways of his life, a daughter with whom he could provide for to cure the loneliness. And, by God, he was going to get one. But when one murder goes wrong and Eric is deemed the cannibal killer of Bon Temps, can he succeed in making his new family work? Vampire SookiexEric. Disturbing content & violence, just a warning.
1. Death

** Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with True Blood. I am just an avid fan and to break the waiting for season 6, I've decided to attempt to write my own fanfiction. This is set in a world where there is no synthetic blood (Tru Blood) available and vampires live on humans, which means there is a lot of unexplainable murders and violence in the world. Vampires aren't known to exist, so they live in secrecy among humans. There will be some disturbing things happening in the story, it will be quite dark and horrific. Hoping you will enjoy.**

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**Dysfunctional Zoo**

Sookie was only meant to be heading outside to look for her Grandmother's cat, Tina. What she got instead, was another surprise altogether.

Someone was standing near a tree, someone who hadn't been there a moment before. A blurry large fixture against the contours of the dark trees and shadows. She paused from calling out for her cat, and looked over more carefully. Yes, there definitely was somebody there. There was enough light radiating from the moon, that she could make out the figure of a man. She hadn't seen him before, wasn't even sure why he was out there. It was almost as if he had just mysteriously dropped out of thin air. Sookie took a step forward off the porch, gripping the bowl of cat food for dear life. The man didn't move, he simply stared at her, watched her as if she was something worthy of being watched for a girl who was twelve years old.

"Hello, little girl."

Sookie didn't answer. She remembered, just in time, what her Grandmother, Adele, often said to her. About taking precautions. About stranger danger. Never talk to strangers. She simply watched the man cautiously. He was so close now that she could see he had light hair, slicked back in an oddly old-fashion, a pale face, and big round eyes. Grey eyes that shone like disks against the background of the night, that watched her calmly like a hawk. His strong pale hands were resting at his sides, and she caught the way his sinewy fingers twitched, in a somewhat menacing manner; A bit similar to the way a man might snap a wild animal by the neck.

"I said hello." His voice went gruff, lower.

"Yes, I heard you," Sookie managed. Her voice was squeaky with fear, and an octave higher than it usually was, illustrating her nerves.

One corner of the man's mouth pulled up into a half-smile.

"Then why did you not answer? It is only polite, isn't it?"

Sookie shrugged, and bit down on her tongue. Her Grandmother wouldn't be pleased, had she found out she was conversing with a stranger. And there was certainly something unmistakably strange and different about this man, Sookie believed. There was a certain glowing pallor to his pallid, dull skin. He had very strong features; A strong nose, a dimple on his chin. A strangely European way about him.

The man nodded towards the bowl she was holding in her hands. "What are you doing?"

Sookie felt her cheeks redden, but she doubted the man could see it visibly in the dark how much so his question flustered her. "Searching."

"Searching for what?"

"For my cat."

"Out here, all alone, in the dark?"

Sookie sighed and turned her gaze upwards to the moon. It wasn't the first time someone had lectured her. "What are _you_ doing out here?"

He overlooked that question, with apparent ease. "What does this cat of yours look like?"

She felt her face grow even hotter. "Black, and fluffy. Big ears. Red collar. She has one of those bells attached to it that jingles."

"How delightful. A cat that jingles."

"Do you live around here?"

"Not exactly. I was hungry, and looking for something to eat."

"Then why are you here in my Grandmother's property?"

"Don't know." He gestured towards her with his head. "Let's just say, I smelt something. Something alive."

Now this was getting stranger and stranger by the minute. Sookie was beginning to regret opening her mouth and talking to the stranger. "Have you seen her?"

"Seen what?"

"My cat."

He seemed to think about that very hardly for a moment. "No, I can't say I have."

While Sookie was thinking of something else to say, he made a quick movement. One second, he was standing a few meters away from her. In the next, he was standing in front of her.

_Must be his long legs._

He was taller than her, so much taller. Her head only reached past his waist in the tight fitted leather jacket he was wearing. She caught her breath. The tip of his thumbs rubbed against the pads of his other fingers. Something wet and shiny was coating them.

He leaned down over her. "Are you frightened, little girl?"

Sookie's hands tightened over the cat's bowl she was holding, as if it would somehow protect her in some way. "No, I'm not. Should I be?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Sookie was intimidated by his height. She stared at the ground between them. An odd smell was emulating off him, a powerful and heady scent. Without warning, he fell down on one knee and knelt beside her face. She could feel his eyes scrutinizing her very carefully, in the way befitting of a cat estimating the difficulty of catching a house mouse as its next prey. She couldn't get past the smell, and scrunched up her nose.

She remembered her parent's funeral, and how the room smelt, as she sat there in the pews, along with her older brother, Jason. How cold and clinical the room smelt. How it smelt of death. The funeral parlour smelt exactly like the man kneeling before her.

"Is that smell you?" she asked, before she could restrain herself.

"What smell?" She heard him sniff the air himself. He sounded offended, and slightly worried, and she instantly regretted saying that. It was hardly the politest thing to say. Clearly, he didn't know he smelt odd.

"Something smells funny. Like death, a bit."

"Oh, well. Aren't you intuitive?" He said it as if he was a teacher commending her on a well-illustrated drawing.

Sookie didn't understand what that meant, exactly. She looked up at him, disliking the close proximity he had placed between their faces. Up closer, she saw how deathly sallow his skin was, like he hadn't consumed a good and hearty meal in quite some time. His arms were folded across his chest, and he untucked one, held out his hand, and made a finger gesture; A slight crook of his forefinger and middle finger. She read it as one that said, _Come closer, if you dare_... And daring to, she did. She inched closer, until she saw the way his light eyes glinted and flashed at her in the dark.

"Would you like to be somebody's daughter?" he asked her next. She couldn't understand that, either. "Somebody who can give you everything you ever possibly dreamed of? Somebody who can make all your fantasies a reality?"

Sookie frowned, crinkling up her face at him.

His mouth. There was something odd about his mouth.

"Your teeth?" she whispered.

The man smiled a little. Not a big grin, by any chance. But just enough that she saw two long glistening fangs extended from just a fraction below his upper lip.

When Sookie let the bowl of cat food fall to the ground in alarm, he had his chance.

_A new daughter to add to his dysfunctional zoo. What a comforting notion._


	2. Survival

**I want to thank you all so much for your interest. ****This is a world where vampire's aren't known to exist. Sookie is meant to be twelve. I'll explain next longer chapter how it fits in between her relationship with Eric.**

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**Chapter Two:**

**Survival**

Mack Rattray was out of Merlotte's Bar just after it hit one o'clock in the morning, due to the manager, Sam, kicking him out because apparently he was being far too loud on the phone screaming obscenities to his girlfriend, Denise, and it was putting the late night customers off.

He swore underneath his breath as he entered the parking lot. It was still fairly dark underneath the dome of lights illuminating his surroundings. His girlfriend Denise was being a bitch again. He didn't know how he was going to get home; He only had his cell phone on him. No bike, no car. He could always hitch a ride with one of the regulars. He had his knife on him, too. He could always hold somebody at knife-point, force them into dropping him off home, if need be.

Only tonight, the lot was fairly empty, and most of the regulars were still inside. It left him no choice but to walk. No doubt, his girl Denise was already high as a kite at home, after their argument on the phone. It happened a lot with her lately; She'd get pissed silly, and high on chemicals.

He had just reached the bushes that led to the highway, when he heard a voice. Several voices, coming from in the dark a while off. He thought he heard moaning, too. Somebody was in pain, somewhere. He stopped in the middle of the entrance of Merlotte's, listening. It was a girl. A young girl. She was crying, and calling for help.

"Help us please..."

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dark, as he searched the area the voice had come from with his eyes. He could only just see the shape of trees that led off the track of Merlotte's. It definitely sounded like a little girl's voice.

"Hello?" he called nervously around him. "Anybody out there?"

"Help us please, mister..."

Suddenly, the voice came from right behind him. He turned around. He heard rustling noises of leaves in the dark, saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Please, help him..."

To hell with this shit, Mack decided. He had a powerful urge to just ignore the kid, and scram. He didn't know how to deal with shit like this; He was still so enraged at Denise. Soon as he got home, he wanted nothing more than to knock her around a bit, teach her some manners.

"Please help him. Daddy is sick."

He heard the crunching of leaves underneath tiny feet, and there she was. A girl. A tiny, little girl. How old was she? It was hard to tell, considering how dark it was. But she was wearing no little more than a white nightgown and old slippers. She would be freezing her little ass off. Her ratty blond hair looked almost silver in the darkness.

He stepped closer to the girl and held out a hand. She was crying so hard.

"What's the matter, chick?" he asked her. He hadn't the slightest idea how to talk to children. He hated them, frankly. All of them were no more than little, annoying shits. "Who's sick?"

"It's my Daddy. He's here. Please, come."

He followed the girl, the turmoil in her voice twisting at his drunken heart. All right, so _where_ was this sick Daddy of hers?

"Where is your damned Daddy?"

"Over there." The girl raised an arm and pointed. Surely enough, Mack could only just see the man's body, sprawled out on the ground in a fetal position. His long arms were wrapped around his stomach, as though he was suffering from severe hunger cramps. The man was only making the gentlest of groaning noises. What the hell was up with him? Her Daddy was probably just only drunk.

"What happened to him?"

The little girl crouched over her Daddy, and rolled him onto his side with a hand urging him onto his right. She touched his forehead, and Mack could only just see the whiteness of his pale face in the dark, as he leaned into his little girl's touch like a devout Christian being blessed by a priest's caress.

"He's sick. He needs food."

"Food? I ain't got food on me, damn it! Don't even got any money!"

This was really a matter for the hospital, not Mack. Still, he tried his best, for the little girl's sake.

"Here, lemme help lift him to his feet. You get his left shoulder, I get his right."

He tried to coax the man into standing. Mack slapped his arm over his shoulder, and tried to heave him up. He choked out an exhausted laugh. The bastard was heavy. He had to have weighed over a ton. The little girl tried her best to help her father up, also. It was rather pathetic; Her father leaned most of his heavy weight on her, and Mack thought he heard the man whisper something into her ear, as he staggered to his feet. A funny rumbling noise burst from the heavy man's chest; He sounded as if he was starving.

"I got ya, buddy," he told the man reassuringly.

They managed to lead the man a few steps, but even then, it was as if Mack was trying to heave a heavy boulder. The man was huge. Roughly around six foot something. Pretty big. They were just turning back towards Merlotte's, with Mack mostly attempting to carry the man and help him out, until he felt something odd happen to him. A sensation similar to getting stung by a bee hit Mack's throat, so suddenly. What the hell was that? What the fucking hell? He tried to turn his neck to examine what it was in the dark, only he found he couldn't move. The man's face was pressed against the side of his throat, his jaws stretching and working.

"What the fuck, man?"

The little girl started with her sobbing again. A warm trickle of fluid ran down Mack's throat, probably blood. The pain got even more intense by the second. He got out his knife and attempted to hack the girl's father off his neck. It was no good. He only gave out a faint growling sound, as his jaw gnawed into Mack's throat.

He wanted to scream, and he made the attempt. It sounded odd coming from his mouth. It was gurgled, and the girl's sobbing drowned it all out. The world was spinning around him at a fast rate. He lost his balance and fell, and at last, he got the girl's father away. He fell backwards against a branch, and the last thing he saw, as everything went black, was the wild look on the man's face and the most peculiar display of a man comforting his child.

Blood. Everywhere. Streaks of blood on his chin, moistening around his lips. Mack's blood. What was wrong with this man? Did he just bite him? Jesus.

The man got down on his knees and extended his arms, and the world shook and crumbled before Mack's eyes, as the sobbing little girl ran to him in her slippers and let the man engulf her in a tight hug. Mack was beginning to see white, as the warm fluid continued to leave him, his throat was getting tighter to the point where he was struggling to breathe or think a single coherent thought.

All he focused on, was the girl and her father. Their strange embrace, as the man whispered something into the little girl's ear; words of magic that comforted her and soothed away her worries. You could hardly hear what the man was saying to the little girl at all. All Mack could make out, was one single word, as he caressed the girl, stroked her hair:

"Survival."


	3. Stuck in Limbo

**Thank you all so much.**

**Hoping you enjoy this one, and that it sort of explains several things. :-) You guys are so nice! TY!**

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**Chapter Three**

She was the first one, and she was everything. She still continued to haunt him to this day.

_(109 Years Ago)_

_He entered the room, tightening the loop of the nightgown over himself. She did not make any indication that she had heard her father enter; Not even the slightest pause of what she was doing, in brushing back her long hair behind her ear lobes. She simply went on as if she was the only person there in the room. But, no doubt, she had felt his presence. She always could. He was her Maker, after all. Her creator._

_Something was odd with Pamela lately. She had grown more distant towards him. He couldn't help but wonder if she had grown to despise him, in some sense. What he didn't know, was that she couldn't. She couldn't despise him, no matter how often she prayed she could. After all, he was her father. Her everything. Yet... still, she felt a mixture of hatred towards him over sentencing her to this life. This life that seemed like an endless cycle of murder and meaninglessness. It was a painful feeling; She hated him, and that hate and resentment spread like poison, withering away in her bones, and yet, similarly, she couldn't hate him. He was her everything. Her one and only. He taught her this way of being. He gave it all to her, he did everything for her. Always for her._

_And yet, something was missing. Some hollow void inside her. She didn't know what it was. It was an indescribable feeling. But something was continuously missing inside. An empty, hollow feeling in her gut, that not even his company could warm and fill._

_He knew something was up with her, and his compulsion to comfort her was so strong, it was almost as if an invisible magnet was pulling him to her. Instead, he gritted his teeth, and moved to the empty chair opposite the mirror where she sat, grooming herself, in defeating silence. He sat in the chair as quietly as he possibly could, and for the life of him, he did not disrupt her silence. He merely watched her, as she resumed brushing her hair. He always loved the look of her hair. So sleek, so smooth. So precious and taken care of. A prized possession to her._

_He watched her pale, slender back as she groomed herself. She was still a young girl; a young girl frozen in time at the age of twenty-two, and yet, in so many ways, she was a woman. She had the strengths and the wisdom of a woman above her years, and appearance. But really, he had made it that way. He had changed her, at the tender age of twenty-two, and he had never looked back. He assumed she would be happy with it; Never would she have to suffer the regular human ailments, like arthritis and dentures. She would be a youthful young woman forever._

_But clearly, that sustained youthfulness was becoming less than enough for her._

_He began to loathe the silence between them. It usually wasn't this silent. She would say something to him, some snide remark, and he would usually reply with something clever off the top of his head. And she would tilt her head back, and laugh. And then, the games went on and on that way. Only, this evening, something was different. His daughter was different. Her entire demeanour was altered into something gloomy. He saw the way her hairbrush stilled in her hair, as she glimpsed at herself for a very long time in the mirror. He wondered what she was seeing, if she was seeing the same warm, youthful spitfire he saw. An easily adored daughter, who erased away all of the loneliness that came along with this secret life._

_Something tickled the corner of his eye. The bleeds were back again. No doubt, his daughter would be suffering along with him. Time to feed, and quickly._

_He got to his feet suddenly, and couldn't take the silence anymore. He smacked his lips together, and, after a moment of indecision he crossed the room towards where she was seated. She sensed and felt her father's movement, and whether incidental or not, she let the hairbrush fall from her fingertips._

_Wide open wet eyes stared over at him from behind her slim shoulders._

_"How are you tonight, my...?" It was a ridiculous question, and he knew it the instance it curled off his tongue. He closed his mouth, effectively cutting off the sentence in its wake. She had her face turned to him, but her eyes were empty, in a way that terrorized him deeply. There was nothing in those eyes anymore. No life, joy... love for her father. Nothing. Empty. "Pam, we... we have to feed." He put his hand in the air, desiring to touch her hair, as she knew he often liked._

_She blinked once, and finally, there she was. She was back again. His Pam. His beloved daughter. "No."_

_"No what, Pam?"_

_"Don't, Eric. Don't touch."_

_Eric hesitated, his fingers a hair's length from the long strands floating midway down her right shoulder-blade. It hurt him more than it probably ought to have. "Why not?"_

_"I... I couldn't stand it."_

_Eric dropped his hands, and didn't know what to do with them, since she wasn't allowing him his wish. Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. Eric didn't know what to do, what to think. Something was wrong with his daughter. She wasn't being herself._

_She looked back at her reflection in the mirror. And then, finally, she spoke in a low, controlled voice. "I can't stand this anymore. Any of this. I can't feed anymore. I don't want to. It doesn't hold that appeal it used to when we did together."_

_"Pamela, you cannot talk this way," he told her helplessly. "As your Maker, I forbid you to talk this way. We must feed. There is no other way. Don't you think that if there was another way, I wouldn't be exposing you to this? We would... be doing this differently. But as it stands, there is no other way. This is it, for us. This is the way we live, and in order to live, we must kill. This is survival, Pam. I will not have my daughter talking this way, you hear me?"_

_"I'm tired of living this way, Eric. It never ends. We go out, we feed by killing. And then, the next night, we wake and do the same thing in procession. I go on living as your daughter. We never get anywhere. We are stuck permanently in limbo- this is what we are! It's exhausting!"_

_"Pamela, I refuse to hear you talk this way! Stop this!"_

_Eric crossed his arms across his chest, and moved away from her towards the closed blinds. It helped not to look at her, not to see her face, when she was being so ludicrous the way she was. Did she even know what she was saying? Could she even hear herself?_

_"This is complete utter insanity, Pam. You speaking this way."_

_"Maybe, but Eric... this is how it is." He felt her move up behind him. He could hear her breathing heavily. "You know what you have to do to stop this."_

_He felt a bitter tightness in his chest. He rolled his eyes at the blinds. "What do you suggest I do about this, Pam?"_

_"I need an ending. I want it to end. The hunger. It never ends. Even soon as we kill somebody, it spreads like cancer all over again. It never stops. It never gets any better, Eric." Why was she bothering to tell him this? Did she forget he felt everything she felt as if the feelings were his own? "You know what you must do to end it." Her voice dropped, and he caught the pleading in her tone. "You are the only one capable of doing it for me. You have the power."_

_What did she want him to do? What did she think he must do, for her? Hasn't he already done enough? He cares for her, she is his number one priority. She is everything. If they go out to kill together, he lures them in and is sure to give her more blood to ingest than himself, and he had the grumbling stomach and pain to show for it. He makes sure she is safe, that she doesn't go without anything; On the condition that she loves him and treats him as if he was her real biological birth father. He gave her immortality, a greater life. Everything she ever could dream of. What more can she possibly want from him?_

_"I don't understand what you want me to do about it, Pam." Eric laughed, shook his head. "I give you everything. I make sure you are never without. I gave you immortality. I gave you love. I never deny you of anything."_

_She laughed, and it was a hurtful sound coming from her. Laced with disbelief. Spite. "Eric, will you look at me? Take a real hard look at your daughter, for me." _

_And without hesitation, he did. He turned with his arms still crossed, and scrutinized her face very closely, for a long moment. It was rather pointless, and he wasn't sure what she expected from him. All he felt, was those warm profound feelings that stirred within him whenever he so much as looked her way. The warmth. The unmatchable worthiness of her, and affection of having her in this life with him._

_ Adoration. Love._

_"I am really looking at you, aren't I?"_

_She nodded gently._

_He slipped in closer to her, and raised his hand to stroke her cheek with the tips of his fingers. His beloved. Everything._

_"I am really looking at you, Pam. And what I see, do you know? I see the most beautiful young woman in the world. Youthful. A woman who will always be this way. She will never grow old, and she will always be at my side. My daughter, always. My child. The only thing I have. No father will love his daughter, as much as I love you. No one, Pam."_

_But that was the problem. His love for her was growing to the point of being suffocating._

_She would never grow old. She would never be an old woman, with wrinkles. She never realized how much it bothered her, until a few days ago. He had taken that chance away from her. She would be a little girl forever. A young woman trapped in the prime of her youth, while mentally, she would advance. Always advancing mentally... never physically. What type of life was this?_

_Besides, hadn't they been living under a delusion? She wasn't truly his daughter, after all. No, they weren't even related. It was easy to forget that, though, in all the ways he treated her. He was the most kindest and sympathetic man she had ever met, even for a vampire. He treated her unbelievably well. Sadly, like most things, you wake up and smell the roses. Reality hits you, and leaves you questioning everything. Could she stand a hundred more years of living under false pretence that she was his girl?__ Could she endure all the weakness and hardships that came along with sharing this life with him? All the hunger. The stomach cramps. The repetitions of their life? She didn't believe so. It was the end for her. She could feel it in her bones. And, ultimately, that meant that he knew, too. He knew this was it, though he fought against the knowledge like the stubborn ox he was. But everything ends, and he had to know that. Even when it comes to immortals. _

_"Eric, I can't be your daughter forever. We knew this was coming, sooner or later. The time is now."_

_He refused to hear. He refused to believe. What was she saying? "Pam, I don't... I can't understand..."_

_"You have to do this. For me. You said, you wouldn't deny me of anything."_

_Yes, he did. And those were words of truth. He would never, not in a million years, deny her of anything. But what was she truly asking him?_

_"Pam, what?"_

_"Oh, for god sake, Eric. I'll do it myself." And she was certainly ready._

_"Pam, why are you being like this? Why are you talking like this? This is fucking insanity talking! What?" He tried to talk her into being reasonable, because obviously, she wasn't being it. "Do you understand how much it hurts me to hear you talking like this? In this way? Don't fucking talk like this, Pam! I don't even know what you're saying!"_

_Eric suddenly got it. He felt a lump in his throat. He was afraid, for once in his life._

_"Pam, absolutely not! No! Fucking no!"_

_She sighed loudly, gave up. "Then I'll do it myself."_

_"Pam, no!"_

_Only, it was too late. She had already prepared in advance. She doused herself in gasoline, and before he could stop her, she was sucked in and consumed by a blinding blaze of flames._

* * *

He ruminated on the first daughter, Pam, daily. Often, he would wake so suddenly in his coffin during daylight hours, as though he had been mysteriously shaken to death, and he would be crying, and beyond consolable.

He just couldn't understand how it went so terribly wrong. What did he do? What didn't he do? He gave her everything, didn't he? He gave her what most women wanted- he cherished her, unconditionally. He made it so she would never reach old age, or endure all the typical things women were afraid of, such as crows feet, and aging. And yet, it wasn't enough for Pamela. In the end, she got tired of it. Tired of him. Tired of living this way. Truth be told, he was tired of it himself, but he pressed on. He wasn't as strong as Pam; He couldn't end himself, like she could. So he had no choice but to... exist. No choice but to... resume.

It was a question he often asked himself, _Where did I go wrong with Pam?_ And it was also one of life's unsolved mysteries that continued to taunt him, every waking hour of the evening. How could he have done differently? In some ways, he supposed he knew. Perhaps he could try again, and it would succeed this time? Perhaps he had done wrong, in choosing a woman older, a woman who had already established a life for herself? What if he went for someone younger, say, someone in their early teens? A girl, who wouldn't notice the absence of her parents and just how demanding the life of a vampire was? A teenage girl who wouldn't get sick of him, and tired of being frozen in time?

The stress over Pam's death was seemingly taking a toll on him. His appearance especially. As he woke from his coffin at sundown, he showered, and changed into clean clothes, intent on putting his best foot forward tonight for feeding. It was only when he was zipping up his leather jacket, that he allowed himself permission to give himself a good-glimpsing over in the misty bathroom mirror. He hardly recognized himself anymore. He couldn't recall the last time he glimpsed at his appearance in a mirror, or shiny surface. He was beyond caring about vanity, after Pam. He eyed his reflection in the mirror uneasily, and the man staring back at him, it was like greeting an old friend he hadn't been in contact with in years. He was a little startled by his appearance, and decided it would be best to take a little more effort in it, from now on. Back when he was with Pam, he often used his somewhat handsome looks to his advantage in luring human's in, for her to feed on. Always for Pam. But now, he was looking a little worse for wear. How could he have let himself go?

He had bags underneath his eyes that he hadn't noticed before. His skin looked sallow, with a slight greyish hue, which would no doubt get a little better and brighter after a good feed this evening. He felt his cheeks, and they felt less round and sunken than they usually were. He got a bit of hair gel, slicked his hair back. It made him feel a lot better about himself. Suddenly he didn't look as dead as he was. He still had a bit of life left in him, after all.

He felt a lot more confident, indeed, when he went into crowded human territory. It was like walking into a fast food restaurant for a hungry mortal. The scent of warm, pulsating blood hit and stung his nostrils first instance he stepped into a small local diner, and his mouth watered. He was lucky he had his mouth tightly closed, otherwise he would have been a startling sight to any of the human's sitting around, eating their meals, when his fangs made their commendation of the overwhelming scent known.

It was incredibly hard to fit in with mere mortals, when you were six-foot-something. Being as tall as he was, Eric tended to draw attention to himself- attention he would have much preferred not to have. You would assume these locals hadn't seen a tall man before, by the way they all seemed to still in their murmured conversations to fix him a look. Luckily, their looks were fleeting, and they turned back in their chair to resume their mundane conversations, minding their own businesses.

He sat in the first empty chair to a table he could find. He was getting used to acting like a human, as the years progressed. He went through all the motions; Blinking, twitching. Hunching his shoulders and slouching carelessly into the back of the seat. He pretended to be preoccupied with the menu, but what they were serving this evening wasn't were his head was at. No, he wanted blood. He needed blood. Blood was the essence of life, the method to survival. And he had to find it very soon.

Any one of the locals tonight in the diner could be on his very own personalized menu this evening. He just had to make a very careful, very meticulous selection. Failing and going without couldn't possibly be an option.

He went through the same-old routine surreptitiously; Eyeing potential victims without their knowledge. Most turned a blind eye to him, anyway. No one suspected anything anymore. They all believed vampire's were a myth, a legend. That worked in his favour, honestly. It seemed like a never-ending chore. A never-ending cycle, as his beloved Pam had once put it. _How apt._

There was no other option. No other option for sustenance. The only possible solution was to end the life of another, in order to save yourself. And, if Eric had to chose between himself surviving, or a human, Eric always liked and preferred himself better.

He felt something dribble out of his left nostril, before he fully realized what was happening to him. What his body was signalling to him. Indifferently, he swiped at his nose with the back of his hand, then inspected the clump of sticky blood that came off his nose curiously, like a rolled-up dot of glue attached to his knuckle. And then, it happened mercilessly; He was infected by a sudden, boisterous fit of sneezes. A clot of blood flew out of his nose, and he could feel bloody sputum building in his throat. He couldn't stop it. No vampire could. It was beyond their level of control. It was what their bodies did, to warn them, to tell them: _You must feed. The blood you had earlier in your system has now fully been depleted. _

_Time to kill, or else be the one killed by starvation. _

People around him in the diner were starting to sit up and take notice- or perhaps that was what paranoia did to you. An elderly man twisted and turned in his seat, and held his gaze from a few tables away. He saw the elderly man's mouth drop open in alarm at his appearance, realized he looked a pitiful mess among the human's. Hastily, Eric delved a hand into the pocket of his jacket and shook out the spare rag he had, just in case, for common occurrences like this. He scrunched the ragged cotton cloth between his dexterous fingertips, held it up to his nose, used it in a similar way that a human might use it as a handkerchief, to staunch the ruthless flow of blood.

It was getting harder to be a vampire in this day and age. The human's were smarter nowadays, what with all their developed, flashy technology. He had a tough time luring in human's as it is, and over the generations, they had become naturally more suspicious into their surroundings and who they met out on the street. It also meant that it was harder work for a vampire to get his fix of blood to sustain him for the next 48-hours, until the gastronomical system chugged up all the blood, and he had to go out and obtain more. It was becoming physically demanding for a vampire to find a decent enough fix to tie them over, until the next few days, when they required blood yet again. Human's travelled in packs nowadays, and usually, by the time a vampire's system made itself known that they needed blood- which Eric was experiencing so unpleasantly right now- they were already physically and mentally weakened, and fatigued.

Eric often likened being a vampire to being a drug addict, as a human. The withdrawals were plain hell to go through. It was much similar to that of a human drug-addict, in the way a vampire's body responded to it, due to the reliance of human blood in the body; First, there was the bleeds. The bleeds wasn't painful, so much as it was downright annoying to deal with. Especially when surrounded by human's, in public places.

The bleeds would come to an end after a minute, or two. But usually, by that stage, Eric had already used up and discarded over three rags soaking wet with blood from various orifices. It was always a relief when it did stop.

Then, eventually, if a vampire still hadn't consumed his fix of blood after all that, there came the stomach cramps. Oh, they were the most unbearable. Sharp, constant, irritating; A cramped, agonizing, tight ache that would send any vampire into a murderous rage.

"Good lord," a red-headed waitress said, as she turned to him from making her rounds of coffee around the tables, filling up cups with a fresh brew, free of charge. "Oh, you poor thing. You're not looking so well! Can I get you anything?"

It was typical of humans' to be so worried over the very thing that could kill them, within a heartbeat. Ignorance of vampire's. That's all it was. Ignorance. And that ignorance directed to vampire's from human's was often his saving grace, in order to get blood.

"No, thank you. I'm fine." He brought his eyes up to her. Forced a smile underneath the sodden handkerchief- one she was unlikely to see. "Nosebleeds. I get them all the time."

"Oh, I bet you're exactly like my youngest girl Julie," the waitress went on good-naturedly. "She gets nosebleeds all the time. Gets worse during the Fall season, brought on by her hay fever." She patted the shoulder of his padded leather, almost sympathetically.

Eric straightened up in the seat, felt his interest peak. "Oh, you have a daughter? How sweet it is."

"Yes. I have two." The fiery red-haired waitress slipped her wallet out of her shorts, flipped it open, and went so far as to show him a photograph of her two little girls that she had in the plastic pouch. Oh, what Eric would give for another chance at fatherhood. He wouldn't dare to make the same mistakes again, whatever they were. Eric felt wistful all of a sudden, and the woman laughed loudly. "Aren't they just two little cuties?"

"Indeed, they are."

"Don't be fooled, though. They are a handful." She closed her wallet and pushed it back into the pocket of her shorts. She contemplated him for a moment, pursing her lips. He knew what she was thinking; She was getting to thinking, no, he couldn't possibly be old enough to be a father. How ironic, it was. Eric was a thousand years old. "You got any kids of your own?"

Eric hated questions like this. "I did, actually." He tightened his grasp on the wet rag, and pushed it closer over his nostrils, when he felt the blood leaking down to his top lip. "Unfortunately, she died. I was very fond of her, though." And any person within hearing distance could definitely distinguish how sincere he was on his fondness of his old and only vampire daughter, Pam.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry for her passing. Seems like it's been tough on you." And the waitress, she dared to run her eyes down his features, in a very pointed way, that told him she assumed his daughter's death was the reason for his haggard appearance. Not quite. He was just only a very, very blood-deprived vampire this evening. His appearance could be salvaged simply by a few litres of blood into his system.

The human waitress gave a final cluck of her tongue at him sadly, and went about her work again. Eric closed his eyes, and the image she had shown him of her young daughters stayed in his retina for several moments. How old did the woman say her daughter's were? Perhaps he could catch one, pluck her away, and make her live with him? ...Or not. He decided the red-headed waitress was far too nice. She didn't deserve the turmoil that came along with losing a loved daughter to him. He dismissed her off the list instantly.

He really had to stop thinking about it. There were more pressing concerns, after all. Such as who was going to be his victim, for the evening. He looked around the diner again. There was an elderly man who kept throwing looks his way. No, he was too old. Too... stale. He glanced at a young woman who was eating something white with a spoon. She was licking the spoon, like a kitten licking milk. Must be ice-cream. Jesus, was her tongue long. She could do some serious damage with that tongue. And, for some miraculous reason, seeing the length of the human woman's tongue, it sealed the deal tonight, as far as victims go. It was pretty impolite to poke your tongue out in public, wasn't it? Or perhaps Eric was getting too old to understand. Probably.

Now that he had his victim for the night, he kept his eyes on her. He didn't let her out of his sight, not even for a second. He couldn't afford to be sloppy tonight, and he needed blood. And badly. Perhaps the young woman had sensed his interest in her, because she ran her eyes around the crowded diner before they settled on him. He pulled the rag away from his face, tried to give her a grin. Unfortunately, it backfired on him. She made a face at him, and turned swiftly back in her seat. It wasn't only until he tongued around his top lip that it occurred to him he had dry blood below his nose. Not a very charming look for human women, it would seem... _Oh, well. Bullshit happens, and she seemed like a stuck-up human anyhow. Plenty of other humans to go around._

He leaned back in the chair and brought his attention over to the walls. Plastered on them, had to have been over twenty cut-out newspaper articles. One caught his attention.

_Young Children's Parents Die In Flash-Flooding._

He could see by the date that it had happened over ten years ago. The children that lost their parents was one Jason Stackhouse, 6, and a Sookie Stackhouse, 2._ Fancy losing your parent's at such a young age. If only they were vampires... Shame._

There was a picture included, in black and white. The ink was a bit smudged, but he rose to his feet and stepped closer to the wall to have a better look. He felt curious as to see what these two human children looked like. Sure enough, there was a picture of the two children. They would be older now, sure. The girl would be now twelve, the boy sixteen. He disregarded the small splotch of ink that made up the figure of the brother, and focused on the smaller one. The girl. She was just a baby, a small delicate toddler.

_Sookie Stackhouse. Hmm. It certainly had its possibilities. This time, it would be different, than it was with Pam. It had to be._


	4. Wrestling

**Hey guys, sorry forgot to write a disclaimer. I own nothing to do with True Blood. I want to thank you all so much for your support. Some of you find it unnerving and creepy? That's great, my intention. Glad it's working :-) I wanted to write a horror based story. Is Eric turning Sookie, a twelve year old girl? We'll have to see in later chapters. I'll just say, he'll be finding great use in a young human like Sookie. Thank you all! x**

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**Chapter Four**

Sookie couldn't stop crying. She felt dreadful. That poor gentleman tonight. How could she have done such a terrible thing? But at least she really understood now.

_"I don't believe you. Vampires don't exist. They're not real. You're lying!"_

_"They do. They are. If you need proof, come with me. I will show you everything."_

And he certainly had. It was beyond Sookie's wildest imagination. He had bit that man outside a bar in Louisiana, drank his blood, to show her. To give her proof. He was a vampire. A real, actual vampire. Vampire's were real. They weren't some made-up creature in ghastly horror stories. They were real, existing in the world.

"Are you cold?" His voice was breathless with concern. She got the fright of her life when he unzipped his leather jacket, and shrugged out of it without so much as a word. He slipped it around her shoulders, in a way that felt oddly fatherly to her, and the chill of the dropping night temperature left her skin almost instantly.

He turned and unlocked the apartment that was his home. He walked inside, and uncertainly, Sookie followed. She was really ignoring half the things her Grandmother taught her tonight. Another one of those rules, was to never, ever, go into a strangers house. She closed the door behind her gently, made sure to leave it unlocked, just in case she found herself needing to run. You could never be too careful. She clung to the leather of his jacket as she padded her way in her slippers after him. She found him standing around aimlessly in what was supposedly meant to be his living room area.

It was nothing like her Grandmother's house. Her Grandmother had dedicated her time in making their old house a homely and inviting one, full of decorations and a warm fireplace she kept running of an evening to keep the cold chills out of the room. This man's house was odd. There wasn't a single decorative piece on the wall. Not even a single piece of furniture. How did he live, then?

There wasn't even a T.V. No couches. Nothing. Just a bare and empty room, with polished floorboards. Nothing. It must be boring living life as a vampire. Then again, Sookie hadn't been invited into a vampire's house before.

The silence was beginning to bug her. The man clearly didn't know what to say. Sookie fiddled with the padded sleeves of his jacket draping over her, while she asked:

"Is that what you always do to people?"

An uncertain pause. The vampire, Eric, was studying his feet. He seemed to hesitate. "Yes."

"Why, though?"

It wasn't everyday a human demanded that of him. A small human less than half his age physically. "I... live on blood to survive. It's necessary." He shifted his shoes, peered down at the tips of them. "It's the only way."

"It's called being a _killer_. You _kill_ people for blood."

"Yes. Yes, I do. And I wouldn't dare deny that. You saw the way it was... tonight. You saw what I did. Now, you must understand, in some way. Surely, you understand now that you... witnessed firsthand for yourself, what survival means for me. What it... entails."

She thought about that, while sliding her arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Could she truly, really understand? She wrapped the jacket over her waist, and instantly, her entire frame felt swamped. The jacket was far too big for her, but oddly enough, it just made it all the more snug and warm. It was a relief not having to feel so... shivery in just her nightgown and slippers. "So, you're like... a...a vampire?" She found that hard to digest, most of all. Her Grandmother always used to assure her creatures like vampires were only make-believe, and now she had witnessed this strange man acting like one. He even had a pair of sharp fangs for teeth, for goodness sake.

He smiled, the first one he had for her since letting her into his home. He looked better, a lot less harmful, when he smiled with his regular human teeth. "Yes, you could call it that."

"So, you're like... dead?" She gestured towards him. "That why you smell so... funny?"

He gave out an odd snort, and she knew she had offended him in pointing out the smell yet again. She knocked her bony knees together, and tried to ignore the gnawing guilt she felt. He definitely didn't know he gave off a lingering smell. "No, I am not dead. I am standing before you. We are speaking. Isn't that obvious?"

"Yeah, that wasn't quite... how I meant it, but all right then. Are you like... old?"

Another smile. "How old do I appear to you, Sookie?"

Uh-oh. That was a bad question to ask. Sookie remembered, in school, her English teacher asking her that very same question. She had put her foot in her mouth, by answering that her teacher looked eighty. In her defence, everybody looked older than they truly were to her. She had trouble telling with grown ups. Still, she fixed her gaze onto him steadily, assessing him. It was even harder to tell with him. Earlier tonight, he had looked horrible. Unhealthy. Now, however, he looked like a healthy man in his early to late thirties, with a glowing, fresh complexion. How was she meant to know how old he was?

"Uh, I guess you look... in your thirties. Am I close?"

"Yes. Closer than you think."

She felt her entire body sag in relief. She had succeeded in not offending him even more.

"I've lived a very long time."

"How long?"

"A thousand."

"A thousand?" She couldn't help raising her voice. "You're a thousand? Seriously?"

He looked as if he was trying to hold in an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, exactly that. Sincerely." And he looked nothing but sincere.

"How'd you know where to find me at my Grandmother's? Why'd you... turn up there?"

"I saw you in the papers at a diner. I read about your... parents passing."

Sookie felt her face grow red. _Great, so the whole town knew about her parent's now? It was in some diner somewhere, for anybody to read about it?_ She looked around his house again. It was odd being in this vampires house. It was a very spacious and empty house. "Why did you bring me back here?"

He wrung his hands out at his sides. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No. Did you bring me back here because you wanna kill me like that man tonight?"

She read something on his face. Something, but she wasn't sure what. He looked the slightest hint remorseful over what he did, in what he made her do in having her pretend to cry and be his daughter to bring the man into the bushes, and at least that was something. At least, he felt bad. She felt suddenly frightened. She took a step back towards the door, her body tensed. Could she make an escape, a run for it, before he managed to catch her? She couldn't be entirely sure. She could still try, though.

"Are you gonna... kill me?" she tried again, a bit more forcefully.

He looked up at her, finally. Sad, almost insulted. Pain flickered across his features. "No, of course, I wouldn't. Never this young... I wouldn't dream of ever..." He stopped, and glanced down at his shoes again. Sookie finished his sentence for him.

"What? You wouldn't dream of ever hurting a girl my age?"

"No. I wouldn't." He nodded at her vehemently. "Not ever. That isn't why I... I brought you back here. I... I thought you knew already?"

"Knew what?"

"I am so very, very lonely," he whispered. "So lonely. Surely, even you could understand that? I need a... a daughter. I need... meaning. Can you understand that, Sookie? I... I need someone I can look after. Someone who... relies on me. Someone who... needs me. A purpose for all of... this." He waved around his empty house for emphasize with his hands.

"So, you're not gonna kill me then?"

"No, definitely not. You're a child, and children deserve to be... protected. I can offer you that."

"Oh, yeah. Protection from _what_?"

"From life, in general. From the world, and everything in it. I can... protect you." She heard him swallow audibly. Seemed she made him nervous. "I can... love you."

"But I already have a Granny. She's like my mother. I don't need a father. Granny protects me enough as it is."

Still looking down at his shoes, he shook his head and stepped a bit closer to her. "Your Grandmother cannot protect you like I can. I will give you... everything. Everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever desired. On the condition that you be mine. My daughter, and that you treat me in the way a daughter treats her father." He took another slow step until he was standing in front of her. Sookie swallowed and took a half step back. The anxiety filled her body again, and she glanced back at the door she came in. How long would it take her to reach it, and run, from where she was standing? "I won't hurt you. I could never hurt someone like you."

He lifted his head slowly to look down at her. Sookie could see the pain etching his face. Then he crossed the full distance between them, took her head softly between his hands. Sookie simply let him do it. She couldn't see an easy way out of it. He didn't look threatening. She could see, clear as day, that he didn't have intentions to harm her while doing it. His long fingers stroked through the tangles of her hair. Along with the gesture, there came an odd look to him. Distant... somewhere else. He let his fingertips move slowly across her cheekbones. She felt no fear anymore. Simply a strange calm that came along with his cautious and gentle touch.

"I'm all alone," he whispered. "You will come of great use to me, if you accept to be my daughter. The world is yours."

"But you kill." She couldn't possibly imagine having a murderer as her father.

"Yes. But it's necessary."

"I can't have a killer as my Daddy. I just can't."

His fingers slipped from her face, and he let his hands dangle at his sides limply. Anger flashed in his eyes. "I have to. There is no other way. Believe me, if there was... I wouldn't."

"So, _why_ can't you_ stop_?"

"Because I want to live. If I don't, I will die."

She had heard enough. She took off his jacket, and threw it on the floor. Then she said, "I'm going home. If you can't take me back, then I'll just have to find my own way, mister."

He leaned down, and grabbed her wrists. Sookie gasped. "Please, don't leave. Stay."

"Why should I? You_ kill_ people! You're _bad_!"

She tried to get free, only his grip was far too tight for her to manage. She wriggled, and his tight grip hardened to the point where her skin felt it was searing.

"Let me go _right_ now!"

"Be my daughter." His tone was desperate, but muted.

"I said, I already got a Granny! She's like my mother!" The struggling was starting to hurt her, so she gritted her teeth and calmed herself, before whispering, "Please, just let me go."

He still did not let go, he wouldn't. She lost herself, really fought then. The man was starting to really creep her out. Without thinking, she raised her hands and managed to knock him square in the nose with them, as hard as she possibly could. It worked, and the back of her knuckles collided into his nose with a loud smack. The man finally released her, and staggered backwards. One hand gripped his nose, and she saw blood dribble onto the floor at his feet. His palm was soaking wet, as more scarlet fluid escaped through his fingers. He raised his eyes to her, bewildered, and the fear and anger inside of her instantly cracked into pieces and she sagged in overwhelming guilt.

She hadn't ever purposefully injured someone before, and she hated the feeling it roused out of her. It didn't feel good at all. He stood still as a nail, trying to cup his hands over his nose to stop the flowing blood. Sookie felt ill suddenly, and her eyes watered.

"I'm sorry. I... I don't know what overcame me just then. I... I was scared. I wanna go home."

Suddenly, the man dropped his hands from his face, and without warning, he leaped, threw himself at her. She lost her balance and hit the floor, wriggling and twisting as he pinned her flat into the cold wood planking the floor. He was far too heavy, as a full-grown man was. She tried to scream, and tried to fight. She managed to grip the back of his hair, and her fingers pulled and twisted into his scalp. Rather instead of paining him, he let out a breathless laugh, and she felt dots of blood from his heavily bleeding nose fly out onto her cheeks. He rolled onto his back, managed to get a firm grip of her hips, and brought her with him. Sookie immediately had the upper hand, and she seized his shoulders as tightly as she could, pressed him down into the floor. And then he was tickling her, relentlessly.


	5. Missing Granddaughter

** Hey guys, thank you all so much for your reviews and alerts. They make my day!**

**Sorry this one is short. I'm a bit short on time, but felt I needed to get this one out. Love you guys!**

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**Chapter Five**

**Missing Granddaughter**

Adele Stackhouse's head was in a whirl. She was sitting in the heavily lit kitchen, reading over one of her Danielle Steele romance sagas. She had to have stopped and re-read the same paragraph over six times now. After a few minutes, she gave up with a heavy sigh, and removed her reading glasses. Rubbed at her forehead to ease some of the distress. Massaged her temples. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Her Granddaughter, Sookie, wasn't anywhere in the perimeters of the yard. She knew her Granddaughter had stepped out to feed their cat, Tina, but usually it took her roughly overly two minutes, and she was back inside again. Adele had already checked Sookie's bedroom, just in case, found it empty.

It was unlike Sookie to disappear and stay outside. Completely uncharacteristic of her young Granddaughter. She began fearing something was wrong. There a tight feeling in her gut, a dreadful suspicion, that something had happened to Sookie.

She closed her book loudly, and got to her feet. Twisted her ankles this way and that way to get her feet back into her slippers she had laid out before her near the kitchen chair to ward her toes from any draughts coming from the cracks underneath the floorboards.

The coffee machine gurgled to life in the background and she heard her Grandson moving around. She tried to ignore it best she could, tried to think of some reasonable explanation into why Sookie hadn't returned inside. Perhaps she was still in the yard, petting the cat, and making sure she ate all her dinner? Adele knew how much Sookie cared for and adored their cat. It wouldn't have surprised Adele if she was sitting outside with Tina. But then what was taking Sookie so long? Why didn't she tell her she would be staying out for so long? The horrible feeling wouldn't leave Adele.

She heard the kitchen cupboards creak open as the coffee machine died down. And then Jason was saying, "Gran, you want some?"

She didn't know what he was talking about. Did she want some of what? _Oh, dear... Where had that silly girl gone off to so late? It wasn't like her at all. Something must have happened. It must have. No other reasonable explanation. None whatsoever... Sookie was a smart girl. She wouldn't ever do something like this purposefully to scare her poor Grandmother. Sookie must of-_

"Gran?" Jason called, a little more forcefully. He even slammed the back of his hand against the cupboard with a loud bang to get her attention.

"Yes, oh yes. I heard you, boy. No need to hit things and make such a loud ruckus. I am not deaf." Adele couldn't help the raising of her voice. It came out as a choked rebuke towards her unsuspecting Grandson.

She felt a sudden surge of embarrassment. Jason was only asking if she wanted a cup of coffee. Poor, thoughtful boy. So much like his father, Corbett.

She was just stressed, that's all it was. She never meant to take it out on Jason. She was just a concerned guardian. Where on earth had that girl gotten off to, though? What if someone hurt her? Of course, it would make a person pretty sick to dare to hurt such a sweet girl. Sadly, there was a lot of sick people in the world, and Adele knew that well. She wasn't naïve and foolish about the world, after all. She had lived in it for a little over sixty-eight years. She felt she knew the world well. But who in the town of Bon Temps would ever dare to harm a girl like Sookie?

She felt Jason move over to her kitchen chair. He carefully laid his hand on her shoulder. Adele bit back her frustration over the gesture, just let him.

"Hey Gran, where's sis? Never saw her in her room. Where'd she get off to?"

And that was exactly the issue. If Sookie didn't return in roughly fifteen minutes, you could bet your bottom dollar Adele would be calling in law enforcement, and submitting in a missing persons report. Something fishy was going on with that girl.


	6. A Town in Trouble & a Still Missing Girl

**I own nothing to do with True Blood. Thank you all so much for inspiring me to work on updates. You all really encourage me, so thank you. :-) I tried to make this chapter extra long for you lovely people. **

**Just a warning, there's a dead body in this one LOL x Sorry to the squeamish!**

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**Chapter Six**

**A Town in Trouble**

Officer Andy had been dispatched to Merlotte's Bar after a report of a murdered body found in the trees near the entrance just after seven thirty in the morning. He was parked outside his usual hotspot in his patrol car, cramming down a few of his favourite jelly donuts when the call went through on his radio. According to the report, a few people were passing through on their daily morning walks and saw the body lying there in the bushes. One of the younger officers who transferred the call to him also gave him a clear warning: '_Be prepared. It's the worst-looking corpse we've seen in quite some time. This is big, Andy. This is gonna be a big case.'_

Andy laughed to himself in glee as he reversed out of his favourite diner where they served the best desserts in town. Finally something exciting had happened in the uneventful town of Bon Temps. Of course, it was unfortunate it had to be homicide, but at least something out of the ordinary had finally happened. And that young officer was certainly right: It was big. A murder hadn't happened in Bon Temps in over a year now. Andy had mostly had to deal with the usual for the past twelve months; Calling into houses to intervene in heated domestic disputes, where one spouse was clearly having a mental breakdown and getting violent with a skillet, baseball bat, and other various objects. But now, finally they had their big case. Someone had been murdered last night. This was indeed a big case.

He was in such a rush to get to the crime scene that he almost backed over a woman and her child. The woman stuck her finger up at him and he gave her an apologetic look through the windshield, before peeling out of there at a high-speed.

He couldn't wait to get into the crime scene at Merlotte's. He was ready to get his hands dirty.

He took a bite of a glazed jelly donut to fill his stomach as he finally reached the entrance. One young Officer had already beat him to the job; He had laid out the yellow tape, signalling the crime scene, and everything. A few people were standing around outside the yellow tape, curious about what was going on. Andy sat in the car for several minutes to finish his donut, then attached his handgun to his belt, and climbed out of the car.

Instantly, he saw the owner of Merlotte's, Sam, standing around with several of the other unknown onlookers. He looked a mess, in a wrinkled chequered shirt and baggy jeans. He had one hand covering over his mouth, like he was on the verge of vomiting any minute now. Clearly the body was a horrifying sight to see. It even had Sam Merlotte reeling in disgust.

Enthusiasm gnashed away at Andy's insides as he inspected all the people standing around. Big case, indeed. This might be the case that would make everybody take Andy seriously as an Officer of the state. If he managed to get a break-through in the case... if he was the one to capture the killer, no doubt, he would be rewarded handsomely. Maybe even be promoted to Detective, get his shield. The townsfolk of Bon Temps would praise him to the heavens and back.

_Every serious Officer's dream..._

Andy found one of the young officer's behind the yellow tape, inspecting the body, and he walked towards the crime scene. Several of the innocent onlookers separated from their curious circle to make way for him to get through them. He bent underneath the yellow tape, gritted his teeth as his knees cracked painfully from the movement, and once he reached the young officer, he laid his hand gently on his shoulder.

"What we working with here?" he asked him, with interest. "Is it an actual real homicide case, or what?"

"Thanks for getting down here so fast," the young officer said, and he stood from crouching over the body. Even his voice was high-pitched with nerves and his footing was uneven as he backed away from the corpse lying among the scattered leaves in the bushes. His young, broad face looked ashen, and even he looked on the point of throwing up himself. _Christ. What a weakling._ "It's really weird. I can tell the bodies been there overnight, but already it's been decomposing. Quicker than usual, I guess. Just be careful. It really is the worst sight."

Andy rolled his eyes at the kid. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say." Be careful, my bare behind. Andy had seen his fair share of beaten and bruised bodies over the years. Surely, this corpse couldn't be too bad, right?

He was being far too confident, though. Soon as he crouched over the body, a ghastly smell hit him. What the hell is with that stench? He coughed, and felt his insides churn. He regretted being so hasty with having his jelly donuts for breakfast this morning. He felt he was about to throw up himself. The smell coming from the body was unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his entire life. Overwhelming. Almost like the scent of rotting cabbage, or a pair of dirty socks that hadn't been washed in months.

Much to his relief, a clean handkerchief was being pushed into his hand. The young officer. Smart thinking on his part. He shook out the handkerchief and held it over his nose and mouth. _Much better._

The body was lying facedown in the dirt, his closely shaved scalp facing Andy. There was no obvious tampering with the body; Most of his clothes and jewellery had been left intact, which ruled out it was a robbery gone wrong. Andy looked at the various bracelets and rings the corpse had on its fingers. It's body was definitely in an odd, contrived position; Head facedown in the dirt, arms twisted back so that the hands were facing him. Maybe the guy had attempted to break his fall and his hands went in that funny place the way they were?

He had numerous rings on his fingers of each hand. Silver skulls, spikes, crosses. If it was a robbery attack, wouldn't the murderer have bothered to remove his jewellery? Andy was guessing they would make a pretty decent amount of money had the attacker pawned them.

Unless, of course, it was something far more sinister...

"Was the body originally laid out like this?" he asked the young officer, who was standing around behind him.

"Yep. In that funny position. I haven't turned the body around yet. Truth be told, I was a bit scared to. I ain't never seen a dead body before. Don't think I can much handle it. That's why I waited for you. I knew you'd know what to do, Andy, sir."

Andy felt a great surge of pride. Yes, he certainly did know what to do. At least, he thought he did.

"Do you have any idea why it smells so bad, boy?" he asked through the handkerchief.

"Not too sure, sir. Isn't that how a dead body is supposed to smell?"

"If so, it damn well reeks." Andy crawled on his knees towards the head of the body. He tightened the handkerchief over his nose, spoke through it in a nasally voice, "All right, boy. You come over here and let's do this shit. Let's turn this body around. You game enough for it?"

The young officer hesitated before getting down on his knees beside him in the grass. "I guess so, sir. Guess it has to be done."

Bracing himself, Andy and the boy pushed all their effort into rolling the body around on its back. The young officer made a noise, got to his feet, and stepped away. Andy turned and looked at him, far too shocked over the appearance of the body to begin to even be truly concerned for the young officer. The young officer's dry heaves could be heard from a mile off. _And there goes another officer puking at the sight of a dead body... Can't they man-up and take it as it comes? Jesus._

Trying to seem brave, Andy turned back to the body. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, then reopened them. Tried to fight back the urge to throw up himself. Obviously eating those donuts hadn't been the smartest thing to do this morning, but how the hell was he supposed to know he would be called into a crime scene?

The face of the corpse, though. He instantly recognized that face. It was Mack Rattray. Mack was a regular customer in Merlotte's Bar. Oftentimes Andy would see him in Merlotte's getting rowdy. One time, Andy had to intervene when Mack pushed one of the waitresses up against the counter and made the attempt to fondle her breasts. Mack had been intoxicated at the time, yes. But still, you don't treat a lady like that.

This attacker obviously had good taste in his victims, Andy found himself thinking. And then, he instantly was horrified at that trail of thought. How cruel of him. No one deserved to die in this way, whether their character was disrespectful or otherwise. And, judging by the appearance of Mack's face, it would appear it was a painful death.

His eyes were open, staring ahead at something vacantly. His mouth was wide open, too, showing his yellowed front teeth and the back of his throat. His tongue was almost hanging out of his mouth, and already, his skin was discoloured and purple like an eggplant. It was really hard to tell what color his skin was now. Andy decided he was a patchy colour; Squares of a greyish-white coloured his cheeks and around his forehead, while several other patches of dry skin were purple. _Patchy._ Andy thought that suited the condition of his skin quite well. _Just downright patchy all around. _

"It's Mack," he told the young officer, who was somewhere behind him. "Mack Rattray. He's been murdered. We got ourselves a murderer in Bon Temps." _Praise the Lord. Something is finally happening in Bon Temps. Something exciting. Something Andy can finally sink his teeth into and get promoted._

Sink your teeth into _literally_.

"Holy Moses," he grumbled underneath his breath, as he instantly saw there was something funny about Mack's neck. He leaned in closer- not too close though, of course- to get a better look. And what he saw there... Teeth marks in the skin. Andy counted them carefully. He counted the exact number of teeth a human would have. Christ, a human actually bit him, maybe even swallowed his blood. The attacker had bitten Mack on the neck. The entire throat was swollen and pale. Leaning in closer and really focusing on the teeth marks, he discovered two entry points into the flesh. You had to look extra carefully and maybe even squint your eyes to see two faint pin pricks marking the skin. "Jesus Christ. We got ourselves a cannibal killer here..."

How messed up could a person be? What kind of person kills someone, then bites them, maybe even ingests their blood? One messed-up motherfucker, that's who. Andy had never seen anything like it. It was beyond belief. Not only is there a murderer in Bon Temps, but a ritualistic murderer who goes so far as to bite his victim and sucks their neck. Crazy. Unbelievable. The stuff of horror movies.

Getting to his feet and dusting off his knees, he stumbled back the way he entered. There was still a group of people standing around, wondering what had happened. Sam Merlotte was even still there. He didn't look as sick as he did before, but he was biting his nails in anxious anticipation for what Andy was about to say of the body.

Andy looked each and every single person in the eye. Then he took in a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and announced proudly, "We got ourselves a cannibal killer! He sucks the blood out of his victims! Maybe even drinks it, the sick bastard!"

Murmurs of speculation broke out between the people of Bon Temps standing around. Only one was silent as they all ushered to themselves in equal fear and excitement. _Sam Merlotte._

* * *

Sam Merlotte listened absently to the wild chatter of people around him. Some bumped their shoulders into his, asking him a question he did not fully hear or understand. His head was far too busy with questions of his own.

What was it that Officer Andy Bellefleur just said? After a while the loud talking became too much for Sam, and he dismissed himself from the group without a word. He entered his bar, went straight over to the refrigerator, and got himself out a chilled Bud Light. He uncapped it and took a big swig, pulled up a stool, and slumped himself into it.

Andy had said there was a cannibal killer on the loose. A killer that drains his victims of blood, maybe even ingests it. At first, he was angry and startled when early in the morning a frantic jogger was knocking on the window. When he had let them in to use the telephone to call the police, he couldn't believe his ears.

Someone had been murdered, right outside _his_ fucking bar. His bar. Not only was it bad for business, but it was bound to throw the entire town of Bon Temps in a strife. Now everyone would be paranoid, wondering who was going to be next on the killer's list.

But this killer apparently drains the blood out of his victims? Well, fuck. Sam knew what it meant. He was probably the only one in town who did. And the fact that he was the only one who knew almost made him feel guilty as sin, as though he somehow had taken part in helping the killer not get caught and walk free.

If he told anyone, he could only imagine how he would be treated. Sam would be treated as a laughing-stock by the community. If only they knew, if only they believed...

The killer was not a sick, normal bastard, like everyone believed. No, what the town was dealing with was a bigger problem. It would be harder to put a stop to this murderer, harder than the police comprehended, because the killer was not your average, day-to-day, fucked-up guy.

He was a vampire. Finally, a vampire had come out of the secret coffin and made himself known to the community by murdering one of its townsfolk. And the town of Bon Temps was in some serious trouble.

Sam swallowed down another mouthful of beer, felt it bubbling away in his stomach. And then he had to feel again. He had to feel... something else. He stood from the stool and went back over to the door. He carefully turned the side of the sign over that was hanging on the door, let everyone know the bar was closed for the morning. Then he went outside the back entrance, made sure the coast was clear. No one was hanging around, luckily. They were too busy standing around the entrance, speculating on the murder. He thought he heard Andy trying to calm everyone down. He was shouting frantically.

First, Sam removed his shoes and socks. He balled up his socks and carefully pushed them down into his shoes. Then he stripped free of his shirt, carefully folded it and placed it by his shoes on the doorstep, then unclasped his belt, pulled his jeans down to his ankles, and stepped out of them awkwardly.

The morning air instantly bit against his bare and exposed skin.

He crouched on all fours, arched his neck up like a dog to sniff at his surroundings, and took off through the bushes.

* * *

Adele hadn't slept all night. She stood by the front door, compulsively opening it and closing it every fifteen minutes. She was undecided. Should she call the police first thing, or should she wait and see, give her Granddaughter overnight and then contact them soon as possible in the morning?

She decided- though very hard to do- on the latter of the two. She needed to be one-hundred-percent certain her Granddaughter was missing, after all. Though the horrible suspicious feeling wouldn't leave her, she went into the living room and sat down on the folded couch. Her eyes felt grainy, sleepy. And soon enough, she fell asleep on the couch with her knees tucked in at her chest, dreaming horrifying dreams of all the possible ways a girl could just mysteriously get up and vanish...

When morning came, she was awakened by a harsh light escaping through the blinds into her face. Immediately, she rose and scampered upstairs to check her Granddaughter's bed. She knocked cautiously, gently, with a faint rap of her dry knuckles to the polished wood, before opening the door widely.

Just like last night, the room was empty. No Sookie. No Sookie in the bed, either. Just empty, unused, clean sheets.

Although Adele told herself repetitively last night that she would not allow herself to do it, that she would not allow herself to panic too much, to dread too much, to miss too much, she covered her hands over her face, and for the first time since noticing her Granddaughter was missing, she let herself cry. She gave out a long howl into the palms of her hands, and then shook her head violently as if to shake herself silly until she was strong again. And then, making up her mind at last, she stormed back downstairs and headed towards the telephone like an unbreakable and undefeated woman on an urgent mission to find her Granddaughter. _She had to be strong now. She had to be strong. Couldn't let it defeat her, and drag her down._

* * *

**I hope you guys are still interested in the story? I'm a huge fan of horror movies, and True Blood, so I wanted to set up an atmosphere where it's a kind of scary world and have a different type of story. Does anyone like it or feeling a bit sick of it? Please let me know, because I don't know if it's something people are actually liking or not? I'm sorry if I disappoint everyone. Next chapter will be entirely focused on Sookie and Eric.**


	7. Dotter Of Mine

**Thank you all for inspiring me. Hope you enjoy this one :-) Feel free to let me know your thoughts. If you think it's crazy, creepy, whatever. I love to know it all :-)**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

"You've tickled me so hard that I find I need to piddle now," Sookie admitted, a bit shyly.

He immediately stopped tickling her, and let her climb off him. He had finally surrendered, and the game was over. He eyed her in a strangely warm way as she climbed to her feet, and he was trying to hold back a grin. They were both heaving, breathless messes. Him a mess more so than her. The bloody nose she had given him had dried, but it had left a horrible smear of blood just an inch or so above his top lip. Sookie had giggled so hard, she felt her insides were beaten from his ruthless tickling. Not to mention she had a funny ache in the lower part of her belly.

Needed to pee definitely.

"Piddle?" It was like a word that sounded as if it didn't belong on his tongue. Sookie fought back an uneasy laugh. He was supposedly meant to be a thousand-year-old vampire, and yet he wasn't up to scratch on common lingo nowadays. Sookie found that unfathomably hilarious of him.

"Yeah, I need to piddle. As in, use your bathroom."

Now bathroom was something it seemed that he could understand easily.

He cleared his throat, and spoke, in a somewhat ceremonious way, "Of course. It's down the hallway. First door on your right. Take however long you need in there."

Sookie wasn't all that good with directions, but she managed to find the bathroom first go. When she switched on the light and a rumbling fan came on that was attached above the ceiling with big white blades rotating around, she knew it was the right room. Plus, the fact there was a toilet and bathtub, it was a pretty big indication. The bathroom had to have been the most pristine one she had ever been in; When she lifted the toilet seat, it was the most immaculate toilet bowl she had ever seen. Didn't vampires go to the bathroom like human's did? Obviously not. How odd.

She pulled up her long nightgown over her knees, sat down, and self-consciously listened to the tinkling noises while she did her business. She felt embarrassed, for some silly reason she couldn't understand. If vampires didn't go to the bathroom, then what did they use the toilet for instead? Or maybe they didn't need to use it. What if the vampire heard her peeing from inside the other room through the walls? Would he find it gross or strange that human's peed? She let out a few coughs to mask the sound, and then once she was finished, she got up, flushed the button, and approached the sink. As she washed her hands, she noticed a porcelain toothbrush holder. There was a toothbrush in there. She felt a bit comforted by the normalcy of that. It showed that even vampires cared about personal hygiene and the state of their teeth. Or was that fangs?

She inspected the bristles of the toothbrush carefully, holding her breath. For some reason, she was almost expecting blood to be on it. Much to her delight, there wasn't any.

Above the sink, was a medicine cabinet. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she yanked it open and looked at all the objects that made up this vampire's cabinet. She was surprised that even the things in there looked rather ordinary. She imagined they were things any normal man would have in his bathroom cabinet. There was a round canister of shaving cream and a razor, which startled her. Even vampires needed to shave, every once in a while? What a shocker. How normal.

There was even a blue bottle of aftershave. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she plucked it off the cabinet shelf, opened it, and took a big whiff. She scrunched up her face, stuck out her tongue. It was so strong it stung her nostrils. It clearly contained alcohol. She took a smaller inhale this time, taking it in. The smell wasn't too bad, she supposed. A bit strong, but she could see why he needed to wear it. He certainly did smell funny. Maybe it was because he was a vampire, though? Maybe it was because he was a walking-talking corpse?

Careful to put it back in the same spot so he wouldn't notice her snooping around, Sookie clicked the cabinet closed, and almost screamed aloud at the girl that suddenly jumped in front of her. It was only her reflection, but she looked disgusting and dirty. She had dirt smeared on the tip of her nose, and her hair looked like it needed a comb through it, and badly. White-faced, hair flying in all directions. She wet her hands, tried to smooth the back of her hair down. And then she was done.

Really, she had wanted to stay inside his bathroom for as long a lengthy time as possible, without rousing his suspicions and having him noticing. She really needed time to think. The vampire wouldn't let her leave, let her go home. He seemed desperate to have her there in his house. Maybe he was just lonely, needed a friend, someone to talk to, and to play games with? Sookie had her fair share of feeling lonely and lost throughout the years, but she never knew grown ups could feel the same way. She thought once a person got older, they had everything sorted out for them. They understood their place in the world, what it expected of them. Obviously, she was wrong. Some people don't understand their significance in the world, even when older.

But she really had to get home, before her Grandmother worried. She just had to.

She turned and looked around. There was one window in the bathroom, one she definitely would have been able to fit out of. But the problem wasn't the size of it. It was what was covering over it; There was some sheet of tinted plastic lining the window, preventing any light from getting through. She didn't know whether she had enough strength to peel the plastic off. She probably didn't. She was only a little girl, after all, and it would have only been wasting time and effort in trying. She wondered why he had plastic covering the window. Was it to keep the sunlight out? Yes, she remembered in a story her Grandmother told her when she was little that vampires hated sunlight, it affected them. Did it affect this vampire? Would it kill him, turn him into flames and then a dusting of ash? Come to think of it, his entire house looked rather dark. Sookie was positive the blinds in the living room had been shut. Obviously sunlight did affect vampires, like those stories said.

She looked around again; her eyes stopped at the old bathtub. She took a few steps closer towards it, and really looked inside. Near the drain was several rags that had been thrown in there, probably carelessly, without thought. Rags of tattered cloth. They looked very grotty and yuck. There were red splotches on the rags, and Sookie knew instantly what it was. Blood. Why didn't the vampire wash them? Her Grandmother certainly would have, first chance she got. Maybe he didn't have a washer to wash them in, though?

She got to wondering then whether or not he had a bed. _What if he slept in a coffin? You hear about that in stories with vampires, too..._

She decided that was too ridiculous. Surely, he would have a bed, right? If he expected her to stay with him...

Realizing she had stayed in the bathroom for far too long, she stepped over towards the door. She was worried he would be out there, that he would be standing right out... that he would be angry she had snooped around. In her defense it wasn't everyday you were in a vampire's house. She had to know about his life and if he lived differently from her, right? She rested her hand on the door knob, and laid her ear against the wood, just to check and see in case that he was out there. She couldn't hear anything. Not any funny noises or breathing coming from anyone. No footsteps. So, she decided the coast was clear.

She pulled open the door, and switched off the bathroom light. The fan stopped with its humming abruptly.

There was another room in the hallway. The door had been left wide-open.

_I have to look and see what else is in there. Just got to._

Tentatively, she shuffled in her slippers near the entrance and felt along on the wall for the light. She flicked it on, and the brightness of the light bulb was almost blinding to her. This room was a lot bigger than the bathroom. It was a little more furnished than in the living room. There was a few opened boxes on the floor. Most of them contained clothes and shoes. Doesn't he have a closet to put all his clothes neatly in, like other people do?

Ah, yes. There it was. A bed. A single bed, similar to the one she had at home. It only had one pillow, and no sheet on the mattress. Instead, there were many thick books littering it, and papers. One book looked oddly similar to the Holy Bible that she often had to read on Sunday's at Church with her Gran when she attended mass. The book had that same red covering it, and it looked just as lengthy in size and pages as the one at Church. Did that mean vampire's believed in the Lord, as well?

She saw the boxy closet opposite the bed next. He did actually have a closet. So, why on Earth didn't he pack away his clothes? Unless he wasn't intending to stay in Louisiana very long?

With her eyes glued to the closet, she walked cautiously towards it. She found herself wanting to know what he had inside, if it wasn't his clothes and shoes, like regular people had in there. She raised her hand to the knob, found her fingers were trembling. She wasn't sure why, but she was a bit frightened to see what was in there. It was almost as if she was expecting a ghost or another ghastly creature to come swooping out to kill her, or something. She twisted the knob, pulled it open. Nothing flew out. It was empty. Completely empty, aside from a few coat hangers with nothing on them. There was something... odd about the floorboards in the closet. They looked almost as if they had been tampered with. A string hung from one plank of wood, attached and looped around a little hole that a drill could make.

She reached down, curled her fingers around the string, and pulled... up... up.

Two planks of wood popped opened, and a space appeared. It was definitely a big enough space that the vampire out in the living room could fit in it, slip through. Sookie peered down the shadowy hole. Something was definitely down there. Did this vampire sleep down there? Or did he use the bed like normal people did?

"Would you like to go down there? See what's hiding underneath the floorboards of this house?"

The vampire's voice suddenly came from the door. Sookie gasped, let go of the string, and the wood fell back into place noisily. He was standing by the doorway, looking in. He appeared both nervous and amused. His arms were crossed against his chest. One shoulder was pressed up against the door frame, and he was leaning against it on a slant. His ankles were crisscrossed. He had exceptional balance as a vampire.

"Uhm, no thank you. I...I think I've seen enough now."

Something told Sookie that if she said yes, there was a possibility she mightn't ever come back out of there alive again.

"Are you sure of that? You seem curious."

He pushed off the door frame with ease, took a slow and careless step towards where she was standing. Sookie suddenly wished she somehow had the ability to transport herself out of there. Into another room, maybe... one where he couldn't come so close.

"You can look. I wouldn't mind it. So long as you don't reveal the whereabouts of this to anyone."

Sookie frowned at that, because really, who was she going to possibly tell?

He took another step, and she backed away warily. He stood in the same place she was standing for a moment, and then he bent down, grabbed the string, and reopened the floorboards. With the tip of his shoe, he pushed the entrance right back against the wall. His back was to Sookie as he bent down. She heard various chains and bolts being slid into place. When he moved out-of-the-way, she finally could see what he had done. He had fastened the planks of wood to the wall to allow a more spacious and generous entrance to what was underneath the floorboards. He stood back and looked at her.

"Remember what I said," his tone was like he was talking to a child, "I am not going to hurt you, or cause you any harm. I never would. And that's an absolute promise." He obviously knew she was feeling nervous and frightened at the prospect of going down there with him.

"What's down there?"

"I can't really explain it unless I show you. It's my hiding place."

"Hiding place? From what?" It sounded almost as if it was a cubby hole. Do vampires have cubby holes?

"I built it by hand myself, the very first night I moved in here. No one else knew of this, except me. I am trusting you not to reveal it, to anyone. If that doesn't illustrate to you how much I believe in your reliability, then I don't know what will."

She hesitated, before she stepped closer to the hole. It looked very dark and scary down there. She sat down on her backside, pushed her legs through the hole in the floor. A cold draught tickled her skin, all the way up to the back of her knees.

"Is there a... a light down there?" Her voice was shaky. But she would feel better if there was a light that they could somehow turn on so that she could see for sure what was down there.

"Yes. Sensor lights. They will automatically turn on, once you reach down furthest enough."

"How deep is it down there?"

"Not very. Just watch your head on the way down."

The hole was awkward to get into, but Sookie managed. Bracing herself with her arms, she slid down entirely through the floorboards. And, much to her relief, just as the vampire had assured her, a light flashed on and blinked into her eyes from above her.

"Cheese and rice," she whispered, stunned by her surroundings. "You did this all yourself?"

"I did." And he sounded very proud of that fact.

He slid down from behind her, and she heard it loud and clear as the soles of his shoes hit the concrete floor. She whirled around, made sure to have him in her sights.

It reminded her of Bruce Wayne's bat cave, almost. There was another single bed over by a concrete wall. There was a lot of cobwebs, and Sookie hated to think how many creepy crawlies would be underneath here. It was pretty impressive that he did it all himself, though. He must have been one crafty vampire.

"Don't you get claustrophobic, though? I know I definitely would."

"I don't. It is sun-proof." He took a step over her and went straight over to the bed. He sat down on it, and the bed frame squeaked and shuddered. "That is the main thing, that the sunlight cannot come through..."

"Will you die if it did?"

"Probably." He shrugged and laid back on the bed sideways, until the rear of his head touched the concrete wall behind him. His eyes stayed on her fixedly, and she got a creepy feeling in her gut. Quickly, she looked away, and turned on the spot several times. It was just as minimalistic as the entirety of his house was.

"Do you just hide down here 'till the sun comes down, or do you actually, you know, sleep?"

"Both."

She peeked over at him again, felt a flush spread over her skin. He was still watching her. Why was he looking at her like that? It was... strange.

"Why don't you have a T.V at all?" It was the only thing she could come up with.

"Because real life interests me far more often than television does. Observing people in the real world is far more intriguing."

Sookie supposed she could understand that; His reasoning. Sometimes T.V was really a bore.

She turned to look at him again quickly, made sure he was still in the same position on the bed, then looked away again. His staring was really beginning to bug her. It made her feel... funny inside. Vulnerable.

"Would you like to sit with me?" he asked, after a while of observing her standing around. She heard him pat the mattress loudly with his palm.

She deliberated for a moment. She didn't want to get too close. Then again, her legs and feet were sort of starting to ache.

"You won't do anything?" she said nervously. She needed to hear him say it, promise he wouldn't.

"Like what?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, and looked down at her slippers. "Something... bad or mean, if I sit too close?"

"I won't hurt you, I said." And again, it sounded an absolutely sincere promise.

"All right then." She dithered around uncertainly, before crossing over to the bed. She sat on the pillow, farthest away from him as the space on the bed would allow. Much to her discomfort, he shifted his head and gazed at her again. His hands were still, tightly clasped over his stomach. Then he sat up slowly against the wall, bringing his legs up until his shoes were dangling off the side of the bed. He did not make a single move to get to her, just stayed still where he was, looking very comfortable and yet, at the same time, curious of her.

"You are twelve, yes?"

"Yep."

"And your parent's were killed, when you were younger? By nature? Flash flood?"

Sookie tried to fight back the scrunching of her face. She didn't very much like talking about it. Least of all, to people she didn't know all that well. Besides, why was it any of his business? Why the sudden interest in her? Why did he choose her? "They did," she simply answered stiffly. She focused her eyes on the wall across from them. Picked a spot. Stared at it. Imagined she had the ability to seep holes through the concrete with her eyes. "Yes." It was just a low whisper slipping through her mouth.

"And do you miss them?"

What kind of question was that? "Of course, I do. Wouldn't you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the movement as he shifted slowly onto his side. Probably just so that he could look at her face more closely. "I have lost many over my years. The sadness... it never goes away. Nothing will replace it."

"I think I've worked that out. Like, though I can't remember much of my parent's, I... I still do miss them a whole lot."

"Yes. I know the feeling all too well." They sat around on the bed for several moments. Sookie just didn't know what to say. There wasn't really anything else much to say on her parent's. And then she felt the mattress lurch, as he leaned over. He said, almost hesitantly, "Would you ever like to live among the immortals?"

Sookie was taken aback by that question. Was he asking her whether she wanted to become a vampire, or not? She thought about it for several seconds. It was a serious question to consider. She sat up, brought her knees to her chest, curling her arms over her knees. "I don't know. I never even knew... people like you actually existed. I can't say for sure. I mean, in some ways, I... I think it'd be cool. Like what you hear about vampire's, and all the neat tricks they can do. But the... the killing..." She shuddered against the wall. "I don't very much like the sound of that. Becoming a killer."

"Well, of course you wouldn't. No one likes the idea of becoming a killer. But sometimes, it is necessary to live. Vital for survival. Tell me something." He shifted closer towards her on the bed, and Sookie's shoulders tensed. She was almost expecting him to attack her, but surprisingly, he didn't. He simply raised a hand, pressed his palm flat into the side of her cheek, held it there. His skin was cool. "If you became an immortal, and your sole existence depended on whether or not you killed to survive, would you be so... hasty to regard yourself as a killer? Would you be so... judgmental then?"

She got goose bumps lining over her forearms at his questions. At the darkness in his tone of voice. The change in it. It went from soft and quiet, to deadly and dark, within a second.

"I don't know," she whispered hesitantly.

"What do you fear most in the world?"

Sookie didn't even know where to start on answering that. It took her a very long time to figure it out herself. What did she fear most? Being hurt, attacked. But she also feared dying, and the deaths of her family. Her Grandmother, who had reached old age, and her inevitability of dying very shortly. Her brother, Jason, dying. She was afraid of those around her dying, she thought. "I... I guess what scares me the most is... is death, in a way. My family dying before me. My family getting hurt."

"I see. And what if I said it was possible that you could have someone close to you, as an immortal, at your side always? One you wouldn't have to fear dying? What if that person could escape death, and you would never have to fear losing them?"

"But who would that person be?" She said it before she realized he was referring to himself. He took her face gently in both hands, moved her head over so that she was looking directly at him.

"Me. I could be your father. You would never have to fear losing me, and if you were immortal, I would never have to fear the potentiality of losing you, either." He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, and she had to fight the very tempting impulse to tear herself away from him and scream. "We could live for many generations. I could show you everything. We could travel the world together, you and me. Father and daughter. Never have to worry about death. Never have to worry about anything, except what is in front of us."

A hollow ache grew in her throat. She had to clear her throat gently. "But don't you see? I like my life the way it is. I don't want to change anything about it. I don't... I would never want to be like you. I can never be your daughter. I just can't." She stared him directly in the eyes as she said it, even though the change in his expression frightened her. His entire face tensed. He didn't like what she was saying, and Sookie could tell. "I want to go home, mister. I just wanna go home, to my house, to my bed. I wanna sleep. I wanna be away from you, away from here. I liked life not knowing what was out there and that... people like you existed. Can't you let me just go home, and leave me be in peace?"

He slapped a hand against his thigh and shifted away from her on the mattress with a loud sigh through his mouth. She was immediately thankful for the space he had deliberately put between them again.

"You might say that now, but once you truly experience what it is like..." He shook his head and let the sentence linger, as if he didn't know what else to say on it.

"I've seen enough to know it would be the worst thing in the world, being like you. You kill people for blood. I don't even know how... how you can live with yourself. How do you, seriously? How can you keep yourself alive when in order to do it, you gotta... kill people in violent ways? Suck out their blood? Bite their necks?"

He nodded at her words, combed an unsteady hand through his hair. His grey eyes were far away. "You know, I think it would be best if you actually did leave." He paused, clenched his teeth, got out a gruff, "Now."

And Sookie was more than happy to. She scrambled off the bed, got to her feet, and ran over to the area they slid down underneath the floorboards. An old ladder was attached to the wall. Steadying herself by clutching onto the top bar with her hands, she gripped it tightly and swung her legs up. Once she reached the floorboards, she slid onto her belly and crawled back out of the closet. She had a tight feeling in her stomach, a bubble of happiness at being permitted to go home, at last.

She climbed up onto her feet, ran down the hallway, and pulled open the front door. The cold air that hit her skin was almost a glorious greeting. But then she was pulled back inside with such force, it was cruel. The door slammed closed, and she became aware that arms were holding her back tightly, restraining her from getting free. She gritted her teeth, wriggle and fought. His iron embrace did not loosen. She felt his face nestle into the back of her hair, as one hand moved to her throat. His fingers squeezed down on her chin, turning her face and neck sideways. Then came the words, on his panting, exhausted tongue, "I'm so sorry for this. Please forgive me. But in time, you will see differently, I assure you..."

"No," Sookie screamed, twisting to get free. She tried to scream as loud as she possibly could, prayed that someone from outside would happen to hear her and come investigating. "No, let me go!" Tears streamed down her face, and after a moment of struggling, he did finally let her go. She fell to the cold floor, a sobbing stressed heap.

And then he was grabbing her by the ankle, and dragging her. Dragging her mercilessly across the floor backwards. She made her fingers into claws, tried to grip the floorboards with her fingernails, but it was too much effort. He was far too strong.

"You'll see differently in time, dotter." And he said it, over and over, like a prayer to God above.


	8. New Life

_**Chapter Eight**_

He extended a hand out to her. Sookie looked up at his face. She swallowed dryly. His fangs were glistening in the shadows.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. His long fingers twitched. He was waiting. "Why do you want my hand?" she asked, nodding to it.

She heard him sigh and take a jump down into the opening. Then he reached up with his hand again. She hoped for one moment he would somehow turn around, and it would give her the opportunity to run. Only, he never did. His eyes remained on hers. With a heart pulsing with dread, she surrendered uneasily and took his hand. He helped her down into the earth and it was then as she stood in the opening that she realized how far underground they were. He had dug a massive hole. For what, Sookie wasn't sure, and that she wasn't frightened her most of all.

The vampire rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, and then slowly, he sat against the crumbling dirt, crossing his knees. He patted the earth with his palm, and Sookie slowly sank down. She used both of her hands to claw up some soil, and she let it fall between the gaps of her fingertips like an hour-glass. The vampire watched her with a lopsided smile that disturbed her. Why did he bring her here? Why did he bother digging a ditch? Unless... No. She shivered in her thin nightgown. Was he going to kill her now?

She smiled timidly back at the vampire, as he brought a hand over to her hair. He brushed his fingers through the long strands, all the way down to her shoulder-blade, as if he was luxuriating in the feel of it. It took her a moment too long to realize he was pushing her hair to one side, to gain more easy access to her throat. To what a vampire wanted most. Blood. The liquid of life.

Quicker as a blink, she felt a piercing, searing pain in the side of her throat. She felt her face contort with anguish, as his sharp fangs penetrated her soft skin. He was biting her now, probably wanting to suck her dry. She tried to move away, but his hands came to her shoulders, holding her down. He was far too strong for a girl to fight against, even if he hadn't been a vampire. A little girl was no match for an older man. She made an odd noise, a strangled scream, as his teeth chewed and chewed into her skin. She heard slurping sounds of him sucking her, draining her of blood.

She started to feel woozy, dizzy. And then sleep caressed her.

Something pressed into her mouth. Wet, sticky. She couldn't tell what it was. Her eyes wouldn't open. But she heard someone urging her gently to drink, to open her mouth. So she did. She let her mouth fall slack, and then liquid bubbled down her throat. It tasted funny. A bit like off-milk. But much to her surprise, she felt thirsty unlike any way she had ever felt before. So, she swallowed and swallowed, and swallowed. And then sleep sucked her away again. She dreamed of happy things. Her Grandmother's face, her older brother's face. The pair of them playing silly games in the backyard. Her deceased parent's smiling at her fondly before a stark-white, heavenly background.

0

When Sookie woke again, she found she couldn't breathe. She had no sense of time or day, or however long she had slept. But she felt as if she was suffocating. Something was pressing heavily down on her body, her limbs. She tried to move, but her muscles would not so much as budge. It occurred to her she was in dirt. She had been buried. By the vampire? But why?

She felt fright infecting her, yet she was also wilfully determined to get herself free so that she could breathe. She found she could only so much as twitch her fingers. So that's exactly what she did.

0

Eric sensed her alert and awake presence. He stood from where he was resting near a gravestone and turned to look at the pile of dirt, where she was buried underneath. The dirt was quivering and caving in. He could feel her panic, her restlessness.

He wanted to help her, but his feet refused to let him. They refused to move.

_No,_ he decided reluctantly. _She has to do this on her own._

Suddenly tiny fingers emerged from underneath the earth. A hand shot out and clawed the soil around it desperately.

Though his heart wasn't beating, he felt suddenly alive then. Alive and sparking with excitement.

His new daughter had finally awoken. A long, new life suddenly awaited them.


End file.
